


i'll do anything you say, if you say it with your hands

by tesselated



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/F, High School AU, Sexswap, cisgirl!everyone tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-17
Updated: 2013-05-17
Packaged: 2017-12-12 03:44:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/806818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tesselated/pseuds/tesselated
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>american high school AU wherein louis' on the soccer team, liam's new (and stupidly pretty and good at things), harry and niall are flop cheerleaders, zayn's too hot to pine, and everyone likes parties.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'll do anything you say, if you say it with your hands

**Author's Note:**

> i'm gonna be honest i took a lot of liberties with the ~soccer~ bc i'm in marching band, i don't know things, so if u actually play high school soccer this might be laughable to you. my main focus was cute girls kissing and not the integrity of high school soccer, so you know, it happens.
> 
> dedicated to that one anon a long time ago who asked me to write lilo genderswap and to tori. ain't nobody doper than you.

When Louis walks out to her car as the final bell rings, there are sixteen pom-poms wedged into her backseat. 

_This is a cautionary tale_ , she thinks, sighing heavily as several roll out onto the pavement. _This is why not to become friends with cheerleaders._

The aforementioned cheerleaders are strolling toward her as she attempts to shove the red and white monstrosities back into her car because, really, what other option does she have here. 

“Lou! You’re ripping them!” She hears as Harry jogs up to her, her red and white skirt flapping every time her feet hit the ground. Niall lingers behind, refusing to run, smiling widely instead.

“Maybe don’t shove them in my car, then?” Louis says, raising an eyebrow at Harry, but Harry just grins innocently. 

“Try to have a little school spirit,” Niall says from behind Ray-Bans, her tight uniform looking out of place on her slouched form. 

“Why are you even a cheerleader?” Louis asks her, eyes narrowing, and Niall smirks. “The mascot position was already filled,” She replies, and takes a sip of the soda in her hand.

“Whatever,” Louis says, sticking her tongue out. She puts the pom-poms back in her car anyway before the other two pile into her passenger seat, and they take the long way back to Louis and Harry’s neighborhood, gossiping idly. 

Harry pulls out her phone, shouting “Drivestagram!”, and Louis turns to grin at her. The car swerves slightly, and Niall cackles, almost toppling out of Harry’s lap as Louis fixes the steering wheel. 

++

The lunch table is empty so far save for Niall and Josh, chatting animatedly about something in the far corner. Louis sets her books down, waving at them, and heads for the lunch line. She feels a thin arm around her shoulder, and then Zayn’s kissing her cheek with a loud smacking noise, sidling next to her in line. 

“Hi Lou,” she says simply, a small smile on her face. Louis kisses her back, slipping an arm around her waist. 

“How’ve you been, babe? Feel like I haven’t seen you in years.” Louis says, and Zayn gives her a full smile then, her nose crinkling. 

“Fine. Busy, I took too many art classes. How’s Niall?” And there it is, at least part of the reason Zayn’s chosen this moment to talk to her. Zayn’s pining was just a part of her everyday routine at this point, after a year of less and less furtive glances thrown the blonde’s way met with total obliviousness on Niall’s part. 

“Single,” Louis says, giving her a pointed look as she piles french fries onto her lunch tray. Zayn just grins out of the side of her mouth, shaking her head. “Sit with us today, we miss you.” Louis says, bumping her hip with Zayn’s, and Zayn says, “Alright,” as she takes a bite of an apple, paying for her lunch. 

It used to always be them, the four of them. Louis doesn’t know what happened, really; this whole Niall thing probably had a lot to do with it, she thinks.

“Wait, wait,” Zayn mutters, making sure she’s out of Niall’s line of sight before fixing and re-fixing her hair. Louis glares at her, pulling her by the wrist over to the table, where Niall’s head is tipped back in laughter at something Harry said. Louis catches the way Zayn’s face changes to a confident smirk, biting her lip and swinging her hips a little more than usual as she saunters for her last few steps. Zayn may be a pining idiot, but she does know how to turn it on when she needs to.

Though, if the past year had been any evidence, Niall wasn’t (isn’t) quite picking it up. Her smile stays plastered to her face as she catches sight of Zayn, and she nearly shouts, “Malik!” before getting up to wrap her in a signature hug (over-enthusiastic, warm, and executed with enough force to nearly knock you over). 

Zayn, to her credit, maintains her false confidence as she rests a hand on Niall’s hip, and it almost hurts Louis to watch two people be so ridiculous. Harry gives Louis a look from across the table, something Louis roughly translates to ‘I wish they would just fuck already,’ and Louis reciprocates it with a nod. 

Eleanor nudges her elbow, smiling, and Louis greets her warmly. 

“Soccer conditioning starts next week, right?” Eleanor asks, taking a bite of some sort of casserole. 

“Yeah, gonna be great.” Louis says, putting on a pained face, and Eleanor laughs. “New talent, I hear, though,” She says in her perma-happy voice, and Louis raises her eyebrows. 

That’s news to her, actually. She figured she pretty much had the teams mapped out, who would end up on varsity and who on JV, with herself earning the (well-deserved) varsity captain title. 

“Really? Who?” 

“New girl, Liam. She’s in my English class, told me she was on varsity her freshman year at her old school.” Louis tries her best to look unconcerned, but damn it if that doesn’t mess up her plans. 

Sports are something she can control. She can flunk a test because she didn’t understand the chapter, but with soccer, you win because you deserve to win or you lose because you deserve to lose. Besides that, she’s good. She’s always been good, and she’s always known her place on any given team. She’s not bragging or anything, but she’s usually the best. 

A new girl. Fuck. 

Louis brings herself out of her thoughts and instead focuses on Zayn’s attempts at conversational flirtation and the way it completely goes over Niall’s head. She’s going to have to have a conversation with that girl soon, she thinks, seeing the confidence slip from Zayn’s features for a moment as she bites her lip. 

“Yeah, I don’t understand it at all, honestly. I’m hopeless when it comes to Shakespeare,” Niall’s whining to Josh as Zayn continues to stare at her in a way that reminds Louis of those scenes in cartoons where starving characters see other people as dancing steaks. 

“Zayn, you’re good at english.” Louis says it as a statement, not giving Zayn an opportunity to wriggle out.

“I mean, yeah, I’m like, okay.” Zayn says casually, but Louis can see the hint of a glare in her eyes, directed right at her. 

“You should help Niall.” Louis smiles brightly, and Niall grins too. 

“Yeah! That’d be sick! Is your number still the same?” Niall pulls out her phone, and Zayn looks slightly faint as she confirms. Harry high-fives her under the table and Louis smirks, pleased with herself. 

“Alright, I gotta go, um, art.” Zayn trails off awkwardly, and Louis just raises her eyebrows, smirking. Zayn rolls her eyes, but Louis swears that even in the middle of her annoyance, she leans down extra long when she gets her books so Niall can see down her shirt. Amazing. Louis firmly believes that everyone can learn a thing or two about flirting from Zayn Malik, and the fact that Niall just grins through her spaghetti makes a case for how _fucking_ blind she is. 

Zayn saunters off, hips swinging again, but Louis manages to muss her hair before she gets too far. 

“I miss Zayn,” Harry says, pouting as she plays with her food, and Niall nods, shoveling food into her mouth. 

“She got hotter,” Niall says casually, and Louis chokes a little on her drink. 

“Hotter?” Harry asks, eyebrows raised, and Niall nods, pulling up sparknotes for Hamlet on her phone as she eats. 

“Yeah, I mean, she’s always been hot. Got hotter last summer, though.” 

Before Louis can think of an appropriate way to react, she hears Eleanor saying, “Liam, come here and sit with us!” 

Louis’ confused for a moment at the unfamiliar name until she realizes: Liam is the new girl. The new, tall girl. The new, tall, pretty girl. 

She’s not pretty like Harry’s pretty though, all bouncing curls and long legs and winking eyes that can get anyone to do anything. She’s not even pretty like Niall, wide-eyed and all smiles, making you feel warm when you look at her.

She’s pretty in the way those big paintings in museums are, the ones behind the rope that always have security guards around them making sure you don’t look at it the wrong way, like it’ll spontaneously combust. She’s pretty in a look-but-don’t-touch kind of way, in a pristine way.

Louis hates pristine things. They’re rude, they mock her, sitting around being perfect, just inviting her to smear something on them, to knock them over. Liam gives Louis the same feeling she gets after the first snow of winter, when she tears around her front yard just to mess up the fresh snow. 

Louis decides she hates her the first time she looks at her, the first time she sees her unscuffed mary-janes. 

“This is Lou,” Eleanor says, gesturing from Liam to Louis, and Louis smiles her favorite smile, the one just wide enough so that no one’s sure if it’s sincere or not. She extends her hand and shakes Liam’s hand in a very businesslike manner, she thinks, standing up as she says, “Louis, it’s Louis.” 

“I’m Liam,” the girl says, and Louis fights back a glare when she realizes Liam’s a full head taller than her. Fucking tall girls. Her eyes crinkle when she smiles, and Louis has never seen someone look so sincere about introducing themselves.

The table introduces themselves to her in turn, Niall merely pausing briefly in her food tornado/study session to mumble her name, and Louis lets the rest of them chat with her as she fumes quietly over her french fries. 

What’s more infuriating than the air of clean and perfect Liam gives off is the way her personality reflects it. It’s annoying, that she’s polite to everyone and looks so overwhelmed by so many people being nice to her. It’s irksome, is what it is. Louis’ irked. 

Harry gives her a look. “Don’t be an asshole,” it says, and Louis narrows her eyes, an effective “No.” before pulling out her phone and trying to seem disinterested in Liam’s chatter. 

“Eleanor said you’re on the soccer team?” Liam says, her voice turning the sentence into a question, and it takes a moment for Louis to register that she’s talking to her. 

“Yep,” She replies simply, flashing a small smile, and goes back to her Bejeweled game. 

Eleanor rolls her eyes. “Please, she’s probably the best on the team.” 

Louis should pretend to be humble about it, but she honestly doesn’t have the energy. “Probably,” she agrees instead, and Eleanor smiles. 

“I think I’m gonna try out next week.” Liam says, grinning, and Louis tries to find something to be angry about in that sentence. 

She can’t _explain_ it, this knee-jerk reaction to everything that comes out of Liam’s mouth. Sweet people, she’s never understood sweet people. People with no edges. They make her uneasy, make her feel inadequate, if she’s being honest. 

Louis can be sweet. It’s just that it takes her time, maybe. It’s just that it has to be laced with something else, an undercurrent of sarcasm. 

There’s probably not a sarcastic bone in Liam’s body, she thinks, stabbing at her lunch tray with her plastic fork as she tries to ignore the sincerity of Liam’s grin, aimed right at her from across the table. 

++

Liam calls her name as she jogs out onto the field, hair tied back in a high ponytail. Louis drops her foot, the soccer ball she was juggling falling next to her as she waves back. 

It’s early, half an hour before tryouts officially start, but she’s been at the field for an hour or so. It’s possible she’s trying to kiss ass by showing up early, but it can’t be proven. She’s instead putting it on the fact that between homework and keeping up with her sisters, she’s barely had any time for anything remotely athletic lately. 

When she mentioned coming early at lunch the previous day, Liam had perked up from her end of the table, where her seating was remaining permanent, it seemed (to Louis’ annoyance). 

“Can I warm up with you some, then, before tryouts? It’s been a while since I’ve played.” 

She was half-inclined to squirm out, to remember some last-minute task she had to do instead, but Harry was glowering at her from across the table; after Louis and Liam’s first encounter, Harry refused to acknowledge why Liam should annoy her in the slightest, and it appeared she (along with everyone else Louis knows, apparently) had taken a liking to her. Now a good portion of Harry’s time was spent thwarting Louis’ attempts to be blatantly rude to the girl, who of course remained oblivious. Even Niall was on Harry’s side, giving her a disapproving look when Louis voiced her aggravation.

So she said yes, because there was nothing else for her to do, half the table giving her warning looks as she opened her mouth. 

Liam’s face had naturally lit up when she agreed, looking like she just won the goddamn lottery. _Calm down_ , she wanted to say. _Stop being so fucking earnest all the time._

But it seemed Liam physically could not stop being so fucking earnest all the time, and even as she starts juggling the ball she’s grinning broadly over at Louis. 

Their small practice session of sorts passes in relative quiet, with Liam consistently impressing her. Every move she makes looks so _fluid_ , so easy, and it’s clear she’s more of a natural athlete than Louis’ ever been. That doesn’t mean she’s better, though, she reminds herself, kicking the ball hard past Liam. 

Liam smiles the entire time, and Louis fights to keep her standard aggressive competitor glare under wraps. She may not like the girl but there’s no reason to scare her quite yet. 

She finds she likes Liam much more when she’s not talking, when her endless stream of optimism and responsibility isn’t flowing, when she has a moment to appreciate the line of her legs curving up to her exposed midriff. Wait, no. Not that. _Focus, Lou,_ she says to herself, and slows down to a walk when she catches her coach walking onto the field. 

“Tomlinson!” He yells, but with an air of fondness, and Louis walks over, giving him a one-armed hug. “Here early, huh? Ambitious,” he says, winking. 

Paul had always been her favorite coach, just firm enough with everyone to still be fun. They were friends of sorts; anyway, the most you can be friends with someone ten years your senior.

“Well, you know.” Louis says, shrugging. Paul smirks. “Mhm.” 

Liam comes walking up behind her, soccer ball in hand. 

“Who’s this?” Paul asks, extending his hand for Liam to shake. 

“New meat.” Louis says, and Liam grins toward Paul and grasps his hand. 

All Paul offers is, “Cool.” But Louis can see the look in his eye, the way he’s impressed despite himself by something about this girl. Louis feels a trickle of doubt enter her mind, but shakes it off when she sees the girls start to enter, gym bags in hand. 

She falls into their group, making small talk with the teammates she hasn’t seen during school, and tries not to feel nervous about the quickly impending reality of drills, sore muscles, and sweat-soaked t-shirts. 

++

She wakes up the next morning barely able to get out of bed. 

Her calf muscles scream when she puts weight on them, hobbling her way to the bathroom with a groan. Yeah, this feels like soccer season. 

Tryouts went well, she reminds herself as she brushes her teeth. Better than usual. She did all the right things and moved the right way and ran fast enough.

But Liam. 

Liam made her look like a joke, and the worst part was that Louis could tell that she wasn’t even trying that hard. She ran without breaking a sweat, and it seemed like her feet could move twice as fast as Louis’ could. 

“Great job, guys, from everyone. I’ll let everyone know their team placements Monday.” Paul called as they all trudged toward their cars. Liam ran up behind her, beaming. 

“That was fun,” she said, her voice taking on its usual pitch of enthusiasm. Louis made a noncommittal noise, shrugging. Liam’s face turned serious for a moment, reaching out and touching Louis’ arm briefly. 

“Hey, Louis, thanks. For coming early with me. It’s kind of hard, um, to make friends here? So, yeah. Thanks.” 

It was maybe the first time Louis had seen Liam with a falter, with a moment of weakness. It was kind of cool, actually. 

“Yeah, it’s whatever,” Louis replied easily, shrugging again. Liam looked content with that, waving as she walked off to her car. Eleanor raised an eyebrow at her as she passed, smirking. _Shut up, Eleanor,_ she thought.

_Shut up, Eleanor,_ she thinks now, spitting out her mouthwash. 

++

Monday is far away. She realizes this as she spends two hours not moving from her horizontal position on the couch, watching reruns of sitcoms. 

She fishes her phone out of her hoodie pocket and opens her inbox. 

She thinks about texting Zayn, about telling her to just get a fucking move on already, before other people start realizing how tight Niall’s cheer uniform fits on her now. 

Mostly she just feels bad for Zayn, all holed up in her art room, probably sketching Niall’s individual freckles on a canvas; it’s not fair for someone that hot to be so hung up on someone else. 

But, she decides, it’s probably not her place. They should work out their own stupidity, she figures.

Instead, she calls Harry. 

In lieu of a greeting, Harry offers, “Lou, did you know that squids mate for life?” 

Louis isn’t thrown, particularly. “No they don’t,” she says simply, and Harry laughs on the other end.

“Nah, not really. Wouldn’t that be cool, though?” Harry giggles again, and Louis grins. 

“Come over and help me not think about soccer tryouts.” 

“‘Kay,” Harry says, and hangs up after she makes a kissy noise into the mouthpiece of her phone. 

They spend the day mostly the same way Louis began it, lying on her couch as her little sisters filter in and out of the room, asking them to play barbies, to play dress-up, to play makeover. For the most part, they placate them, Harry telling Daisy to pucker her lips so she can put lipstick on her. After the third straight hour of barbie melodrama (in this particular plotline, Barbie and her boyfriend T-Rex have broken up for the tenth time, after T-Rex cheated on Barbie with Twilight Sparkle) Louis has to draw the line, and shoos the girls off to their own rooms. 

“So.” Harry says, flopping down onto Louis’ unmade bed, snuggling in. 

“So.” Louis responds, joining her. She lets Harry curl up into her, curling around her as an automatic response. 

“Tryouts.” Harry says, and Louis can feel her eyes boring up at her. 

“I think I called you over here to _not_ think about tryouts.” Louis says with little conviction, and Harry pokes her stomach.

“I did well, you know. Like, better than usual.” 

“But?”

“But Liam,” Louis sighs, and Harry sighs exasperatedly. 

“Why don’t you like her?” Harry says, poking her again, and Louis rolls her eyes.

“It isn’t even about that!” Louis starts, but when she feels Harry’s eyebrow raise, she continues. “Well, okay. It’s a little about that. Mostly it’s about how she’s better than me, which is stupid.” 

“You can’t be the best at everything, Lou,” Harry says in a sing-song voice, and Louis rolls her eyes. 

“I just want this one thing. Not everything.” Louis grumbles, and Harry giggles. 

“I don’t like her because she’s too perfect,” Louis says a moment later, voice quiet, and Harry makes a considering noise in her throat. 

“She’s probably not, though. I mean, you’ve known her for like a week. There’s a pretty good chance you haven’t gauged her perfection levels at _everything_.” 

“It’s possible,” Louis grumbles again, and Harry prods her arm.

“Louuuuu,” she says, and Louis elbows her. 

“Louuuuuuu,” she tries again, and Louis looks down at her, face scrunched up. 

“You’re too _cool_ to be jealous of new girls,” Harry says, sticking her tongue out, and Louis grins, hugging Harry.

“I mean, obviously.” Louis replies, and Harry rolls her eyes, shoving Louis off the bed.

++

As it turns out, she doesn’t have to wait until Monday to find anything out. 

Her phone buzzes across her desk early Sunday morning, rousing Louis from her sleep. Alright, it’s noon. But that’s still early, in Sunday terms. 

“‘Lo?” She mutters groggily, not bothering to look at the caller ID.

“Louis!” Says a deep voice on the other end, and after a beat Louis recognizes it as Paul. “I was hoping this was still your number. I just wanted to let you know everything as soon as possible, because I know you’re the anxious type.” 

“Well, I wouldn’t say...” Louis starts, but remembers her activities of the previous day. “Yeah, okay,” she finishes, grinning as she lies back down in her bed. Paul just laughs.

“Well, you made varsity, obviously.” Paul says, and Louis feels a smile spread across her face. Yes. 

“I’m also letting you know early because you got co-captain.” 

Louis pauses in her celebratory inner monologue, Paul’s words hitting her sleepy brain slowly. 

“Co...with who, exactly?” Louis asks, but she has a feeling she already knows. 

“New meat,” Paul says, and Louis groans softly. 

“Oh, knock it off. I know you don’t like sharing the spotlight but she’s quite a person to share it with. And don’t start going on about experience,” Paul says, cutting off the argument that hasn’t left Louis’ mouth yet. “Yes, you’re more experienced, but you saw her out there.” 

There’s a moment of quiet, before Louis remembers herself. 

“Well, thanks. You know it means a lot to me.” She tries to sound as pleased as she felt a moment ago, but instead she just thinks of Liam, about how stupidly happy she’s going to be. It only succeeds in pissing her off further, in starting a new line of thoughts that begin with _doesn’t deserve._

She small talks with him for a few minutes before hanging up and promptly falling back asleep, trying to feel happy for herself and only somewhat succeeding. 

++

The most immediate consequence of soccer season’s start is that she’s a little more cranky at all times. Either because her legs and arms are aching from conditioning, or because she’s being forced to work alongside the most practical human being alive. 

“Ugh, can’t we just skip morning runs for a couple weeks? Everyone’s too dead to even do anything before school,” Louis complains, her notebook open in front of her as she sits on a bench in the locker room, legs crossed. By everyone, of course, she means herself.

“Exercising in the morning is important,” says Liam in the tone of a scolding mother, and Louis fights back an eye roll. 

“Fine, fine,” she grumbles, in the spirit of not wanting to fight.

And that’s how she ends up seeing Liam every morning at fucking _dawn_ , her smile too bright for the near-darkness of the morning as the team circles around them, shivering in sports bras and barely keeping their eyes open. 

“Alright, well, this is pretty terrible, let’s get it over with,” Louis announces to the group on one particularly cold morning a few weeks into conditioning, and she and Liam lead the pack, running along the track ahead of the bleary team. Well, Liam leads, her long legs striding farther than Louis’. Fucking tall girls, she thinks for possibly the twentieth time this week as she struggles to keep up, arms and legs pumping. 

“It’s not a race,” Liam says between breaths, grinning at her. 

“Do you want to make it one?” Louis asks her, trying to ignore the fact that her breathing’s almost twice as strained. 

Liam looks at her, considering for a moment. “I’ll win.” 

Louis narrows her eyes, turning her head back and pushing herself harder. Goddamn if that wasn’t a challenge, a challenge from the girl who preaches the importance of fiber in well-balanced diets. 

She’s smaller than Liam, she’s less graceful, and she has to work to get what Liam achieves without trying, but if there is one thing Louis is sure of, she will _not_ lose to her.

She repeats this to herself like a mantra as she keeps herself ahead of Liam for almost the entire track, a stitch forming in her side. When the finish line’s in sight, though, Liam turns to her, and gives her a small smirk. 

“See ya, Tomlinson,” she says, before easily pushing herself ten feet in front of Louis, stepping over the line and slowing her pace down until she’s standing a few feet past it, hands on her hips, breathing heavily. 

Louis should be angry, angry that she let herself lose when she was so sure she wouldn’t. But she’s not, really, because that was the most interesting Liam has ever been, that smirk before the finish line. This is the first time in almost a month of knowing her that she thinks Liam might, maybe, possibly, be _fun_. 

She smirks back at Liam as she slows. 

“You won’t win again,” she says, before turning to watch the girls cross the finish line. She thinks she mostly imagines the blush that sweeps across Liam’s cheeks.

++

Louis is hunched over her math homework at lunch, scrawling calculations in the margins. Late-night practices mean being too tired to do her homework properly, and her calculus class is in an hour. 

Harry’s sitting across from her, eating a banana and watching her with mild interest. “You seem stressed,” she comments around a mouthful of food.

Louis rolls her eyes, sparing a moment to glare up at Harry before going back to her homework. Maybe she’s never been a picture of academic excellence, but she does _care_ about school, sometimes. 

It’s possible it has something to do with the fact that Liam switched into her calculus class, and within one week had the teacher wrapped around her finger. He was always throwing around words like “excellent work ethic,” and “dedication,” all while marking little red stars on the top of Liam’s homework. 

“I can help you with that, if you want,” Louis hears from over her shoulder in Liam’s friendly tone.

“No, that’s okay, I don’t need help.” Louis smiles confidently before going back to her calculator, punching buttons semi-frantically. 

Harry gives her a dull look from across the table, chewing her banana slowly. 

“Shut up,” Louis mutters under her breath, trying to ignore her. 

Much harder to ignore is Zayn trying to explain Shakespeare to Niall, who isn’t paying attention to much outside of Zayn. 

Zayn’s got a look on her face like she really cares about what she’s saying, rattling on about symbolism in the third act of Hamlet, but it seems to be lost on Niall, grinning from the side of her mouth up at Zayn. 

_Well, at least that’s in the works,_ Louis thinks as she goes back to her homework, giving a defeated sigh. 

Harry’s still staring at her, an eyebrow raised. “Shut _up,_ ” Louis whines again, but Harry just shrugs innocently. 

“Lou, are you coming to my party this weekend?” Josh asks her from across the table, and Louis glances up. 

“Wouldn’t miss it,” she says, giving a salute, and Josh winks at her. 

“You too, Liam.” Josh says and Louis tries not to groan. Over half her time is spent with Liam lately, between practice and stupid calculus and her stupid friends being so enamored with her. And, Louis begrudgingly admits to herself, she probably doesn’t hate her. But she wants to hate her, with her long legs and good grades and talent. She really, really wants to hate her. 

But it’s like kicking a puppy, being mean to Liam. She even looks a little like a puppy, big brown eyes and a face incapable of hiding emotion. She can never bring herself to be outwardly catty to Liam, instead whining to Harry later in the car about it as Harry rolls her eyes heavily, trying to argue with her. 

“Uh, that’s okay, it’s not really my thing.” Liam says, smiling, but the table erupts around her, urging her to go, come on, it’ll be fun. It takes ten minutes (but Louis’ not counting) before Liam eventually agrees, looking a bit nervous about the whole thing. 

Louis files that away, the grimace behind Liam’s grin, and stops herself from inventing a reason behind it, instead focusing back to the scribbles in her notebook. 

“Oh,” Liam says, looking over Louis’ shoulder again when she pulls her bag on her arm as the lunch bell rings and Louis gathers her papers. “That’s not due today.” 

Louis freezes before groaning loudly, her head falling onto the lunch table. 

++

She reunites with red solo cups like an old friend on Saturday night as Harry passes her a beer, grinning. 

It’s been a long week. 

They lost their first game two to one the night before, and Louis remembers the way she yelled at the team on the sidelines, her face screwed up into something mean. She knows they won’t hold it against her, they all know her better than that, but it still makes her feel like shit.

So she lets herself get quietly tipsy with Harry, Niall, and Zayn, sitting in a circle on the floor of Josh’s basement while a group of guys play Call of Duty across the room. Louis notices three beers in that Niall’s practically sitting in Zayn’s lap, hands lingering every time she has an excuse to touch her. If longing stares and subtle hints are Zayn’s method of flirting, this is Niall’s, tactile as ever. 

Zayn looks flustered, cheeks flushing pink when Niall’s hand rests on her thigh, and Louis gives her a winking smirk as she takes a swig of her drink. 

It’s safe to say she’s properly tipsy by the time Liam shows up, uncharacteristically (Louis imagines, she doesn’t really _know_ her, anyway) late and picking at the buttons on her flannel shirt as she scans the room. 

Harry’s lying across Louis’ lap, almost curled up, as Liam walks over to them, a small smile on her face. 

“Liiiammmm,” Harry slurs, reaching her arms out up toward Liam. Liam giggles, her eyes almost disappearing into laugh lines, and reaches down to pull Harry up. 

“Liiiiiiiamm, I’m drunk. How are you?” Harry asks, hugging Liam tightly. “‘M good, thanks,” Liam muffles against Harry’s shoulder, waving at Louis with her fingers. 

Louis salutes at Liam, pulling a serious face before cackling wildly. It’s possible she’s had more to drink than she remembers. 

“Louis, Louis, Louuu,” Harry whines, collapsing onto Louis’ lap again, and Louis just responds by running a hand through her curls idly. 

“Lou, let’s go outside. Is it cold, Liam? I don’t care, let’s go.” Harry’s up again, pulling Louis by her wrist, and Liam’s still laughing quietly at Harry’s antics. 

“She’ll lose steam soon, she’s like a kitten,” Louis mutters to Liam, who nods, her eyebrows raised as she follows the two of them up the stairs and through the house. 

The air is brisk, autumn finally kicking in, and Louis rubs her arms as she steps outside into the dark. Josh’s backyard is empty; a forgotten swingset is swaying in the breeze, and Harry promptly runs over to it, almost falling backwards when she tries to sit down. 

Louis sits down on the grass, and Liam sits down next to her after a moment of hesitation. They watch Harry for a minute, trying to swing herself with her long legs and failing when she can’t coordinate their motion. 

“I’m sorry, about the game,” Louis says, and tries to sound earnest past the slur in her words. The cold breeze against her bare arms is sobering her, though, so it’s not too difficult.

Liam shrugs, but she looks a little off. “It’s alright, I know you didn’t...I mean, we’ve all been there.”

Louis laughs, taking a sip from her drink. “Really, you’ve been there? I can’t imagine you ever losing control over anything.” 

Liam raises an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know, you’ve got your whole...perfect thing.” Louis shrugs with one shoulder, turning her head back toward Harry, who’s trying to text while swinging (predictably, fairly unsuccessfully). 

“I’m not perfect,” Liam says with a scoff in her voice, and Louis rolls her eyes.

“Whatever, I know, everyone makes mistakes, no one’s perfect, we’re all beautiful in our own ways. Whatever. I just mean you’ve got the grades and you’re good at everything and you’re hot and it’s your thing, the perfect thing.” 

Louis blushes after she finishes, realizing what she said, and Liam’s eyebrows shoot up, but she doesn’t say anything. Silence falls between them; it’s not uncomfortable silence, exactly, just very palpable. 

“You don’t really do parties, do you?” Louis asks Liam. She’s always been a chatty drunk, her tendency to put on a show coming out more than usual, but she knows that’s only half the reason she’s asking, she knows that despite her attempts to repress it, Liam fascinates her.

“Uh, no, not really.” Liam says, not offering any more, and Louis rolls her eyes.

“Don’t get all quiet and mysterious on me, Payne.” 

Liam shoots her a sidelong look, her usual mixture of amusement and confusion. The confusion is maybe understandable; Louis thinks this is probably the first time she’s ever tried to get to know her. 

“I don’t drink much, and it gets old, getting teased about it, watching all your friends get drunk, so. I’ve just never been much of a party person.” Liam shrugs, turning to watch Harry again.

Harry’s fallen off the swing, and she’s dusting the dirt off her ass when she bends over and finds a childrens’ soccer ball, bright green. She tosses it over to Louis, shouting, “It’s a sign!” and giggling. What that means, she’s not sure exactly, but she catches the ball, setting it down in front of her. Liam stands up and moves to take it with her foot, but Louis puts her foot on top of it first, clambering up from the ground. 

And she doesn’t know why, but she wants to play soccer with Liam in Josh’s backyard, half-drunk as she is. 

“Play me,” she says, her foot still on top of the ball, and Liam smiles, shrugging easily. 

“Yeah, okay.”

“Wait, what does the winner get?” Louis asks, and Liam shakes her head. 

“It’s always about winning with you, isn’t it?” 

There’s something in Liam’s voice that doesn’t sound quite right to Louis, but she can’t be bothered by it right now. 

“Yes. What do I get?” Louis replies instead, and Liam smiles again.

“I’ll beat you.” She’s still smiling, not a drop of mean-spirit in it, and it’s enough to make Louis want to beat her, badly. 

“No.” She replies simply, and kicks the ball past Liam’s feet, running after it. 

Liam follows her, her feet matching Louis’, and she snags the ball away, kicking it in the opposite direction. 

There are no set goals, but they both know they’ll be able to tell who wins and who loses, they both understand that this game is mostly mental. Louis steals the ball back from Liam, kicking it over toward Harry, who’s curled up on the grass with someone else’s hoodie wrapped around her like a blanket. 

She keeps it going for a minute or two in her direction, Liam on her heels; she can feel Liam behind her, feel the heat radiating off of her. 

But suddenly Liam grabs her arm roughly, pulls her back, and manages to get the ball. Louis’ thrown, staggering as Liam lets go of her. 

“That’s cheating!” Louis yells, chasing after her and reaching out to pull Liam back. But she pulls too hard, evidently, because Liam comes spinning around and careening into her, knocking them both into the grass. 

It knocks the wind out of her, and she tries to steady her breathing with Liam pressed on top of her, panting next to her ear. 

Louis’ not sure why she does it, why she flips them over so that she’s on top of Liam, inadvertently straddling her as she catches her breath, but it does something to Liam’s face, something hard to read.

“You’re always so fucking competitive, aren’t you.” Liam mutters, before surging up to press her lips against Louis’ roughly. 

Louis freezes for a moment, caught in a moment of astonishment, but almost by instinct, she kisses Liam back.

It’s not really a _good_ kiss; they’re both covered in grass and dirt from rolling onto the ground, and she’s still a little drunk and Liam isn’t, and it’s messy, with Louis still hovering above Liam. But it’s certainly something. 

They pull away from each other, breathing raggedly, and Liam’s giving her a hard look. 

“You win, I guess,” Liam says quietly before gently pushing Louis over on her back and standing up.

Louis wants to say something clever, to make this feel less strange, but Liam’s already walking away, and anyway her brain seems to be a bit frozen. 

She lies back in the grass and tries not to think about what just happened, what it means, and how truly fucking awkward lunch is going to be on Monday. 

++ 

But it’s not awkward. It’s not anything, actually. 

Liam, quite unexpectedly, is apparently choosing to act like nothing ever happened. It’s fine by Louis, and normalcy resumes for a week or so: Liam still grins hello, Eleanor and Harry still try to get Louis to act friendly, and Louis still tries to beat Liam’s test scores and mile times with more dedication than she remembers putting into anything in quite some time. 

Louis and Liam are in the locker room after a too-long practice. It’s raining, it has been for hours, but the field was still in a decent enough state that they could afford to practice on it. The result, of course, is eleven mud-caked, irritated girls filing out of the locker room in rapid succession, aching to get into their heated cars. 

Liam, though, wants to talk about changing dates of practices, and do you think Eleanor’s knee is going to be okay, and god knows what else, because Louis is having a fairly difficult time concentrating as her rain-soaked socks cling to her shins and she can feel the mud harden in her hair. 

“Look, can we hurry this up?” Louis interjects in the middle of one of Liam’s sentences, and it seems to startle her out of her train of thought. 

“I...yeah, sure. It’s not that important, really.” Liam shrugs, and Louis continues to be amazed at how willing Liam is to just cooperate, to be the passive to Louis’ aggressive. But as Liam sheds her soaked t-shirt, she remembers the dark of Liam’s eyes meeting hers from below her, her chapped lips. So maybe passive isn’t the right word. 

Louis’ still sitting on the bench, staring at Liam’s back as she folds, folds, for god’s sake, her disgusting t-shirt and puts it in her gym bag, reaching for the waistband of her shorts. She turns around, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion.

“What’re you doing?” Liam puts a hand on her hip, and Louis stands up, matching her stance.

“You kissed me. Like, a while ago.” Louis says, voice flat, and Liam looks down.

“I...yeah.” 

“Were you planning on addressing that, ever, or?” Louis asks, and Liam blushes.

“No? Not really, no.” 

“Well, I am, so.” Louis crosses her arms, and Liam rolls her eyes.

“I don’t know, you always turn everything into this...this goddamn power struggle, it just...felt like a way to get the upper hand.” Liam says, avoiding Louis’ gaze, and Louis raises her eyebrows.

“You kissed me so you...would win?” Louis asks, and Liam shrugs. “And for no other reason?” Louis continues, and Liam rolls her eyes again.

“Oh, shut up, you know you’re pretty.” She says, sounding irritated, and Louis thinks it’s the first time she’s heard an edge in her voice.

“Well, obviously, but that’s not what I meant.” 

“What did you mean, then?” Liam says, and yeah, this is definitely the first time she’s seen Liam like this, looking frustrated with a glare in her eyes.

“You don’t...like me, or anything. Like, a crush-type...thing.” Louis says, and Liam just gives her a flat look.

“No.” 

There’s a moment of silence before Louis says, “Well, why not?” She pouts and Liam glares. 

“I don’t know, I just don’t! Why, do you want me to?” Liam asks, and Louis pauses.

“Well. I don’t know. No.” She answers defensively, and Liam rolls her eyes again. 

“Great, I’m glad we’re both on the same page. Can you change, then, and stop watching me?” Liam says, but instead of going back to changing, she keeps her eyes locked on Louis. Louis doesn’t move either, and it’s like she’s frozen, paralyzed from the look in Liam’s eyes. 

Louis kisses Liam this time, her damp t-shirt sticking to Liam’s torso when she lurches forward and presses her against the lockers behind her. It’s quick, not much more than a peck, but she stays hovering in front of her lips, looking up to meet Liam’s eyes.

“What are we doing?” Liam asks, and Louis shakes her head. 

“I don’t know, you started it,” Louis breathes back, and Liam rolls her eyes.

“I swear to god -” Liam starts, but Louis cuts her off, pressing her lips into Liam’s again, moving her hand from her side up to Liam’s waist. Liam flinches at the touch, but doesn’t move out of it, and Louis tightens her grip slightly. Louis moves her tongue to part Liam’s lips and they open easily, the kiss deepening. 

It’s the best kiss she’s had in an embarrassingly long time, actually, to be honest. Not that she’s kissed anyone in particular recently; she actually hadn’t kissed anyone since Eleanor, but that had been completely different. Eleanor had been laughing between kisses and trying to stay quiet in Louis’ bedroom so her sisters didn’t hear and everything had felt soft and fuzzy. 

If you counted kissing Harry, it hadn’t been too long since she’d kissed someone, but that was a whole other thing. Kissing Harry just happened sometimes, out of boredom or to comfort her or just because. It was familiar and easy (everything with Harry is familiar and easy) but there was no particular passion behind it from either of them, no sparks flying. 

This, having Liam under her fingertips, this was sharp; she felt focused and on-edge, her skin buzzing with energy. Maybe it’s that she knows Liam is stronger than her but she’s letting her push her against lockers and pin her arms back; maybe it’s just the noises Liam keeps making in the back of her throat when Louis’ hands move down to her hips. 

When Liam pushes her back, Louis breathes out heavily, standing a few inches in front of her still. They stay like that for a minute, looking at each other, trying to read each other. 

“I never thought you really liked me much.” Liam says softly, and Louis blushes, shrugging.

“You grew on me, I guess.” Louis mutters, and walks over to her bag, finally getting changed out of her muddy t-shirt and shorts. 

Neither of them talk, and the locker room’s quiet, just the sound of the rain hitting the roof filling the air between them. Liam doesn’t ask what it meant, what it means, what they are, any of it, and Louis’ a little surprised. She seems like the kind of girl who needs for things to mean something. 

But maybe Liam isn’t as predictable as she believes, she thinks as Liam waves goodbye and walks outside with an umbrella over her head, not saying anything more than, “See you tomorrow.” 

++

It just becomes another part of her routine, kissing Liam after practice. An enjoyable part of her routine, far more exciting than packing her sisters’ lunches and taking sleepy notes in chemistry. 

She doesn’t know how it happened like this. Late at night, after their first kiss in the locker room, she had called Harry, intending on telling her, but she stopped herself. Telling Harry would make it a bigger deal than it was, she reasoned with herself, and so she just carried on conversation normally. She hadn’t told anyone, actually, about her bi-weekly - god, what can she even call it? They weren’t _dates_ , they weren’t exactly getting to know each other over coffee. 

She was getting to know what Liam liked, if she could leave hickeys on her neck (no, too visible) or if she was allowed to slip her fingers under the band of Liam’s sports bra (it was encouraged). 

If she’s being honest, it’s helped the team; she and Liam worked in sync now, easily passing to each other and the rest of the team. They won their second game by a point, and their third by three. 

The strange part of it all, really, was that nothing had changed. It felt like after they had kissed at that stupid party, secret and hidden - but there was no tension between them, no longing glances or awkward conversations. They were friendlier, yeah, but hearing someone moan your name will do that to you. 

But mostly, they still operated in separate spheres, connected only by a few points. 

“You haven’t been complaining about Liam that much lately,” Harry observes, sitting in her passenger seat one afternoon. Zayn and Niall are in the backseat, but they aren’t paying any attention to Harry and Louis, wrapped up in each other instead. Niall’s telling an incredibly long story about nachos, and Zayn is listening very closely, as if Niall’s divulging the secrets to the universe. 

Louis keeps her gaze on the road, her face blank. She shrugs. “Not much to complain about, I guess.”

Harry makes a considering noise, a smile playing at her lips. “You don’t _like_ her, do you?” 

Louis tries not to react too much, but she raises her eyebrows despite herself. “I’m pretty sure she’s straight.” 

It’s a laughable statement, and Louis considers how wonderfully not-straight Liam is before Harry replies. 

“Not like that, you idiot. As like, a friend, or something.” 

Oh.

“I don’t know. Have to see her all the time, seems kind of pointless to dislike her.” Louis answers, and Harry shrugs, apparently satisfied. She moves on to talking about an attractive substitute teacher, but Louis’ stuck on the thought.

Is Liam her friend? They certainly are a little more than friendly, but outside of deserted changing rooms, they’re barely anything. Does she want to be something with Liam? It’s an exhausting train of thought, and one that hasn’t presented itself in the past three weeks of rushed moments between kissing Liam.

Maybe being friends with Liam could be good. 

She tries to imagine it, them watching movies together or sharing food, but has trouble separating it from memories of Liam blushing close to her skin, lips swollen. 

Maybe they could be _something_ , like, dating something. Maybe not, though, Louis thinks when she remembers how spectacularly bad she is at dating-somethings. It’s a wonder Eleanor still speaks to her, after their fantastically bad breakup.

It’s just that dating makes her uneasy. It's so _messy_ , getting feelings involved, getting other people involved. It’s why she had resigned herself to kissing boys at parties and Harry in her bed, the nights that neither of them could sleep. It was just easier that way.

And this had been easy too, before Harry had gotten this whole thing swimming through her head. It’s easy to kiss Liam and be kissed by Liam and forget everything else going on, if they’ll win the game on Friday, if she’ll pass her chem test, if her sister’s got a cold. Liam is a release, almost, and that’s remarkably relieving. She imagines it’s the same for Liam but really has no idea; discussing feelings is never really on the agenda.

She tries to tuck it all away in the back of her mind, tries desperately not to think about what Liam is like as a girlfriend. Probably sweet, she figures, and that irks her. 

After a week of imagined scenarios, Louis walks toward Liam in calc. Her brow is knitted in concentration, fingers moving adeptly on her calculator as she writes with her other hand. She glances up when Louis sits down next to her, occupying the usually empty seat. 

“What’s up?” Liam asks, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, and Louis tries not to be endeared by the look on her face. Stupid. 

“I just realized I don’t have your number and figured I should have it. For like, team stuff.” She answers, and she knows it’s pretty weak; the season’s almost over, “team stuff” barely exists anymore. 

Liam grins, not pointing this out. “Yeah, sure.” She says, and recites digits easily, Louis writing them in pen on her hand. 

She stays sitting next to Liam for the rest of the hour, and when their teacher passes their tests back, she can’t keep Liam from seeing hers. A bright red D+ shines at the top of her paper, and when she sees Liam’s A-, she twitches. 

“Lou, you know, I could...help you, if you wanted.” Liam offers, sounding cautious. Louis sighs. There are few things she hates more than asking for help. Losing probably ranks higher, _probably_ , but she draws a blank on any others. 

But then there was the issue of passing the class. 

“Okay.” She answers, and Liam grins again. 

“Cool.” Liam replies, and Louis frowns. 

She can’t decide whether to humor Liam and tell her that yes, it did in fact sound super cool, or reply with something witty (and wow, that’s disconcerting, how is that a debate, who is this girl, anyway?), but the bell rings before she has a chance to do either. 

Liam gives her a wave as she walks out, and Louis wants to curl up under something and hiss desperately. 

++

When Niall invites them all to some friend’s party on Friday, she agrees quickly. Maybe too quickly, judging from Harry’s quirked eyebrow. But whatever. It’s been a long week. Every week was getting to be a long week.

Niall’s in the basement of the house, loudly recounting the Justin Bieber concert she attended half-drunk the previous year, the way she got pulled on stage for One Less Lonely Girl and just started cackling, trying to stage dive after he finished. Zayn’s hand is on her waist and, oh yeah, that’s happening. Louis feels bad for missing it, really, only realizing it a couple weeks ago, but she figures she’s had a lot on her plate. 

They look all shiny and new, Zayn’s fingers tapping against the pale of Niall’s exposed midriff, smiling wide. Niall pauses in the middle of her story when she catches the way Zayn’s looking at her, giving her a quick kiss before jumping back into her train of thought. They’re fairly revolting, actually, and Louis can’t decide whether to be bitter or pleased. 

Harry’s dancing (well, trying to dance, anyway) with an extremely tall boy who looks overwhelmed by the mess of curls and giggles and legs trying to move in front of him, and Louis can’t help but laugh just looking at her. The thing about Harry is that even though she ends up tripping over herself like a baby deer learning to walk about seventy percent of the time she moves (how she managed to become the captain of the cheerleading squad Louis doesn’t quite know), she manages to make it look endearing, even charming. _Harry Styles can literally stumble her way into love_ , Louis thinks, getting up from the couch to go grab another drink.

She must be more distracted than she thought, though, because she quite literally runs directly into Liam on the stairs. 

“Oh! Sorry!” Liam says, hands on Louis’ shoulders, and Louis bites back a fond smile, doesn’t tell Liam that she has nothing to be apologizing for. Instead, she puts on her biggest smirk, and shrugs. 

“Make it up to me, get me a drink,” she says, and Liam smiles hesitantly. 

“Are you flirting with me?” Liam asks, grinning but looking hesitant, and Louis laughs. 

“I don’t flirt. This is just my natural state of being,” Louis winks, and she feels more comfortable around Liam than she has in weeks. It’s just so much _easier_ , to put on a show like this, than to let her mind wander to what any of it really means. 

Liam takes Louis’ empty beer bottle from her hand, walking off toward the kitchen, and Louis laughs loudly again, trailing after her. 

“I wasn’t being serious!” Louis says, and she watches Liam’s shoulders shrug, can practically feel the smile on her face even though she can’t see it. 

Liam reaches into the fridge and grabs a beer bottle, passing it on to Louis.

“Don’t make me drink alone,” Louis pouts, and Liam puts a hand on her hip.

“What about Harry?”

“Oh, she’s off seducing someone or other.” Louis waves her hand, and Liam just looks at her for a moment. 

“Alright, fine.” Liam finally replies, and Louis grins, raising her eyebrows.

“Does this mean I get to see what _Liam Payne_ is like drunk?” Louis asks, twisting the cap off of her beer bottle as Liam grabs another from the fridge. She shrugs.

“Depending on how reckless I decide to be.”

“I didn’t know you did reckless.” Louis says, and Liam grins slightly.

“Well, you know, I try not to.” Liam says, and moves to walk past her. She pauses next to Louis’ ear, though, ducking in to mutter quietly, “Might make an exception for you.” 

Louis feels cemented to the ground, feels a blush creep into her cheeks as Liam’s arm brushes hers after she continues by. Damn it.

++

They end up sitting next to each other on the basement’s couch for an hour or so, making easy conversation as their friends filter in and out. It’s strange, being friendly with Liam. It feels unfamiliar and she doesn’t know how far she’s allowed to push her, or what she’s allowed to say.

Still, it’s hard to deny they have this...chemistry. Maybe it’s because Louis’ never tried to have a conversation with Liam that didn’t relate to math or soccer, but she’s surprised by just how easy it is.

When the ratio of lip-locked couples to awkwardly loitering singles becomes alarmingly high, they decide to make their way up the stairs, Louis giving Harry a small wave from across the room where she’s making doe eyes at a boy with red hair. 

As they walk up the narrow staircase, Louis belatedly realizes she and Liam could easily be one of those kissing couples, that there’s nothing stopping them. Somewhere in her efforts to make conversation, she had forgotten about late nights in locker rooms. 

The full weight of that feels heavy on her mind, so she shoves it out as she maneuvers through a throng of teenagers crowded in the living room, smelling like stale weed. She just wants somewhere quiet; her head is fucking killing her. 

She finds it in a younger sibling’s abandoned room, toys on the floor and a pile of jackets on the bed. She shoves them off and lies back on the bed, closing her eyes. She hears Liam close the door and the bass of the music dulls to a muffled thump. 

“Oh, this feels a bit weird, doesn’t it?” Liam asks, and Louis opens one eye to see Liam prodding a toy truck with her toe. Louis shrugs.

“Four younger sisters, this is what my entire house looks like.” 

Liam laughs, and sits down at the child-sized desk, looking hilariously overgrown in the small chair. 

“You look absolutely ridiculous,” Louis informs her, and she can feel the slur in her words. Liam grins over at her, but doesn’t move, and Louis lets her eyes fall closed again. She hears a thud a few minutes later, and when she opens her eyes she realizes Liam fell out of the tiny swivel chair. She’s lying splayed on the ground, looking a little shocked, and Louis can’t help the way laughter spills out of her. Liam joins her after a minute, standing up and flopping down on the small bed next to Louis, her laughter muffled by the blankets. 

They lie next to each other in silence for a few minutes, and Louis feels fuzzy and strange. She’s happy, she realizes after a moment, and she laughs again at that. 

“What?” Liam asks her, turning to smile at her, and Louis shrugs, rolling over so that she’s on top of Liam, legs on either side of Liam’s hips.

“You’re pretty,” Louis says without meaning to, brushing hair out of Liam’s face. Liam goes pink, biting her lip, and Louis groans.

“No, that makes you look _prettier_ ,” She says desperately, and she’s only half-aware of the words coming out of her mouth at this point. 

“So what d’you want me to do, then?” Liam asks her, and Louis considers for a few seconds.

“Kiss me,” she replies, and Liam doesn’t hesitate in following orders, rolling them over so that she’s straddling Louis. She tangles a hand into Louis’ hair and leans down, pressing her lips onto Louis’ softly. Too softly, actually, for their cumulative level of drunkenness, but Louis doesn’t complain, because she can feel Liam’s other hand inching its way up Louis’ side, pulling Louis’ shirt up with it. Louis arches up easily, letting Liam pull it off her, and Liam sinks back down into her, hands pressed into Louis’ sides. 

“Is this okay?” Liam mutters into her mouth, her hand going for the clasp on Louis’ bra, and Louis nods frantically, tongue darting out into Liam’s mouth as her hand works behind her back.

Louis sheds her bra easily and reaches for the buttons on Liam’s shirt, clumsily undoing them without looking. After a few struggling minutes, Liam giggles, and pauses from kissing her to sit up and undo them herself. 

Louis can’t help herself from noticing how good Liam looks, perched on her knees over Louis’ lap, unbuttoning her too-clean white shirt to expose the pale pink lace of her bra. She leans back down over Louis, and Louis smirks up at her. Liam grins back briefly before lowering herself to Louis’ neck, hands moving up to grab her breasts as she kisses up Louis’ neck to her jawline. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Louis whispers when Liam’s fingers brush past her nipples, and she feels Liam smile into her skin. 

It was always Louis making Liam fall apart, pressing her against a wall and pulling her sports bra over her head. This was...well, it was definitely new. 

Liam works her way back down Louis’ neck, biting at her collarbone before kissing down to her breasts, across her chest, everywhere. This is Liam’s element, Louis can tell, because she’s really good at it, kissing you everywhere until your skin’s burning with it. Her tongue flicks out against Louis’ nipple and Louis hears herself make an embarrassing breathy noise. She pulls Liam back up at that, kissing her hard.

“Why’re you still...clothes?” Louis asks, and Liam smiles, sitting up again to take off her shirt. 

“I don’t usually do this.” Liam says, still grinning. 

“Do what?” 

“Drink. Have sex at parties. Have sex with people I’m not dating. Pick any one, I guess.” Liam shrugs, and Louis smirks. 

“Fun, though, isn’t it?” She says, reaching a hand behind Liam to unhook her bra, and Liam tosses it near their growing pile of discarded clothing. She doesn’t mention that she doesn’t usually do this either. 

++

She wakes up feeling out of it, pressed into the wall with Liam’s solid body on the other side of her. It’s morning, but not really; the sun hasn’t even come up yet. It’s...Saturday, right? That sounds right. 

Her phone is pressed against her hipbone, and she vaguely remembers tucking it into the waistband of her jeans when she had gotten dressed again the night before. She tries not to move too much against Liam as she fishes it out, finding three unread texts from Harry, sent about thirty minutes apart from each other.

_Where are you Louuuuu_

_Text me back !!_

_Lol I found you.....youve got some explaining to do_

She rolls her eyes, grinning fondly at the screen, and trying to decide what to do next.

She had sex with Liam. That happened. She was more drunk than she probably should have been, but Liam was too, right? It’s all kind of fuzzy, which is a shame; it seemed memorable at the time. 

She’s still in a stranger’s kid sibling’s bed, she realizes suddenly, and blushes a little. She’s debating whether or not to get up when Liam shifts against her, turning to face her but still asleep. She’s got drool dried on her face and her hair’s a wreck, but goddamn if she doesn’t look so fucking pretty. That’s a problem, Louis thinks, sighing. 

Liam makes a noise in the back of her throat, opening her eyes blearily. She blinks at Louis a few times, Louis just staring back, before clearing her throat. 

“Hi.” Liam says, and Louis smiles a little. 

“Hi,” she replies, and neither of them move, lying in awkward positions on the too-small bed.

“So. Last night.” Liam says, her cheeks going red, and Louis bites her lip to keep from smirking. 

“Yeah,” she says instead, and they continue to look at each other.

“Well, this is awkward,” Liam says after a minute, and Louis gives a burst of surprised laughter. She leans forward and kisses Liam lightly, barely even pressing her lips against Liam’s. 

“What is this, Lou?” Liam asks, sounding lost, and Louis looks at her intently for a moment. 

“I don’t know.” She responds honestly, and Liam nods.

“I want to be friends with you, I think,” Louis says softly, surprising herself. Liam raises her eyebrows. 

“Is this how you usually treat your friends?” Liam asks, and Louis laughs.

“Uh, actually, more times than not, but I swear it’s coincidence.”

Liam looks at her again, considering. “I can do friends.” 

It’s taking actual physical effort not to touch her, to brush her hair back or spread her palm on Liam’s back, but she can deal. She can deal, right?

“Can we get the hell out of this poor child’s bedroom already?” Louis asks, and Liam groans. 

“Oh god. Hang on,” she says after Louis gets up, and she realizes that Liam is taking the sheets off of the bed. 

“Jesus christ,” Louis mutters, and Liam rolls her eyes. 

“I’m not going to let some kid sleep in their bed after...” Liam trails off, gesturing between the two of them as she gathers the sheets into a ball, tossing them down a laundry chute in the hallway. 

“Come on, let’s go get some really platonic breakfast,” Louis says, and Liam follows her through the sleepy house, walking by a few kids passed out on the couch. 

“Oh, definitely. I’ll order eggs with extra...I was trying to be clever there, but I can’t think of anything funny.” Liam says, furrowing her eyebrows, and Louis grins. 

“Thought that counts.” Louis says, and Liam grins back.

++

It’s remarkable, really, how easily Liam folds into their group of friends. She was sort of there from the start of the year, Louis guesses, but there was always tension; everyone knew that Louis wasn’t overly fond of her (it’s not like she was quiet about it, exactly), so there was some distance. Now, though, it was like she really _had_ always been there, from their stumbling beginnings in middle school. She laughed at their antics, at Louis and Zayn’s slap fights and at Harry putting lemon juice in her shoes, and her occasional jokes made Niall double over with laughter (though, to be fair, that's not difficult)

It’s fun, having Liam around, even if sometimes looking at her from the wrong angle brings back faint memories from half-dark rooms. 

She’s in her bedroom with the twins when the doorbell rings, letting Phoebe paint her nails meticulously. 

“Just a minute, alright?” Louis says in response to the girls’ pouts when she gets up. 

On her front porch is Liam, looking fairly awkward with her backpack in her hand. 

“Uh, hi. You told me to come help you with calc.” Liam says, bouncing on the balls of her feet, and Louis slaps her forehead. 

“Shit, I totally forgot. I’m babysitting right now.” Louis says, and Liam nods.

“It’s cool, I’ll just go -” 

“No, don’t be stupid, come in.” Louis says, ushering her inside, and Liam follows her cautiously. 

“Really, it’s fine, I don’t wanna put you out or anything.” 

“Are you kidding? The girls love fresh meat.” Louis says, a glint in her eyes, and Liam raises her eyebrows. As if on cue, the twins came running from Louis’ room, their feet stomping down the stairs eagerly. 

They began pelting Liam with questions, pulling at the hem of her flannel shirt and grabbing her backpack. 

“Hi!” Liam says cheerily, waving to them in turn with a grin on her face, and they smile back.

“This is Daisy and Phoebe, they’re small and energetic and twins.” Louis says, picking up Daisy and slinging her over her shoulder. 

“Hey, Lou! You’re gonna mess up your nails!” Phoebe shouts, and Louis nods solemnly, setting Daisy back down as she giggles. 

“Liiiam, do you wanna watch a movie with us?” Daisy asks, and Liam puts on a big smile.

“Yeah, of course. What do you wanna watch?” 

“Help us pick!” Phoebe yells, grabbing Liam’s hand and dragging her over to the large cabinet full of DVD’s on the other side of the room. Liam turns around to look at Louis, and she looks a bit overwhelmed, but Louis just smirks at her. 

“I’ll be in my room when you three decide,” Louis says, waving over her shoulder, and the twins nod at her. 

She decides to be polite and gathers up the dirty laundry from her floor, dropping it unceremoniously into a large pile in the corner. Liam also doesn’t need to see her stuffed teddy bear, she figures, and shoves it toward the bottom of the laundry pile. She’s bent over stuffing the teddy bear underneath some jeans when the twins come rocketing into the room, knocking her over on their way to the bed. 

“They learn it from you, you know,” Liam says, and Louis just raises an eyebrow at her from the ground. 

“Well, probably, but there’s no need to be smug, is there?” Louis says, but she’s grinning. 

“What’d you pick?” Louis asks the girls, who are bouncing up and down on Louis’ mattress.

“Peter Pan,” Liam answers instead, waving the DVD case in her hand. 

She puts it in the DVD player perched on top of the TV that stands in front of Louis’ bed, and sits gingerly on the edge of the mattress. Louis flops down on the middle of the mattress on her stomach and gives Liam a look. 

It probably says something that Liam can already interpret her looks, the way that she knows her raised eyebrow is an invitation to make herself comfortable. She scoots herself closer to Louis, bringing her knees up to her chest as she leans back against the headboard, and Louis nudges her knees with her shoulder, smiling as the twins sing along to the opening song. 

“He reminds me of you, a little,” Liam says twenty minutes in, and Louis snorts.

“What, is it the boyish charm or the green tights?” 

Liam kicks her, shaking her head.

“Who’s Tinkerbell, then?” Louis asks a few minutes later, and Liam considers it for a minute.

“Maybe Tinkerbell’s you, too.” 

Tinkerbell’s face glows red on the screen and Louis shrugs. “I can see it.”

“You’ve got the figure for it,” Liam says, and Louis laughs loudly enough for the twins to turn around at them, eyes narrowed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Louis asks after they turn back around, grinning at Liam.

“Small and curvy,” Liam says, and Louis laughs again.

“I resent that. _Small_ , please.” Louis says, rolling her eyes, but the smile stays on her face. 

“What? It’s true. You’re _petite_ , Louis. Dainty, even.” Liam says, grinning as Louis narrows her eyes. 

“You’ll pay for that at some point.” Louis says, before turning her attention back to the movie.

“Does that make you Wendy, then? Mother?” Louis asks, and Liam rolls her eyes. 

“I guess so.” 

The girls fall asleep by the time the crocodile goes after Captain Hook, curled up on the front of the bed together.

“So I’m Peter Pan, huh?” Louis asks quietly, pulling herself off her stomach to sit next to Liam.

“Yeah, I can see it.” Liam says, and Louis furrows her eyebrows. “What, do you resent that too?” Liam asks, a small smile on her face.

“It’s just, he’s kind of an asshole, isn’t he? A little full of himself, kind of inconsiderate.” Louis says, and Liam just makes a face at her, a little hard to read. 

“I’d rather be Tinkerbell, to be honest.” Louis says, and Liam smiles. 

“What, you’d rather be the jealous minx than the immortal prankster?” Liam asks, and Louis smiles, rolling her eyes. 

“Well, how can I be _both_? Doesn’t make much sense, does it?” Louis says, and she expects Liam to tell her that none of it makes sense, that they’re casting themselves as Disney cartoon characters, but instead Liam just looks thoughtful.

“Well, it’s like. Peter’s gonna kiss Wendy, right? But Tinkerbell pulls her back, ‘cause she’s too jealous or whatever. Or how Tinkerbell tells the Lost Boys to kill Wendy, but Peter saves her at the last second.” Liam says, and Louis raises her eyebrows.

“So what’re you saying, that I’m the master of mixed signals?” Louis asks, and Liam shakes her head, grinning.

“I just think you try to stand in the way of your own happiness sometimes.” Liam says, and Louis just looks at her. 

“What times?” Louis asks quietly, and Liam sighs.

“Sorry I brought it up, getting kind of deep and psychological for a Disney movie, huh?” Liam says, but Louis doesn’t look away.

“What times? You barely even know me, Li.” 

“I don’t know, the times when we kissed and then we were nothing? Or the time we had sex at a stupid party and the next morning you told me you wanted to be friends with me?” Liam says, glancing over to make sure the girls hadn’t woken up. 

Louis stays quiet. 

“You never said anything.” Louis says finally, and Liam looks down. 

“What was I going to say? Hey, Louis, I know this started as some bizarre form of hatefucking for you, but I actually kind of like you? Hey, Louis, I think you like me too, what’s the deal with that?” Liam says, and she doesn’t even sound angry. She sounds resolved, like she accepted it ages ago, and for whatever reason, that does something to Louis. 

“Look, I just...I don’t do...this. Feelings.” Louis says, and Liam gives her a dull look. 

“You realize that other people do, though, right? That this weird game we’ve been playing for months would be enough to fuck up someone who ‘does feelings’.” Liam puts air quotes around the words, and Louis can’t look at her. 

“You should have said something.” She says, looking down at her comforter.

“Yeah, I know. But I didn’t...if I had said something, you just would have avoided me until you found a way to never see me, right? And that’s not...what I wanted. What I want.” Liam says, fiddling with a button on her shirt. 

“What do you want, then?” Louis asks, flashing her eyes up to meet Liam’s. 

“You.” Liam says, and forget a knife, the tension between them is thick enough to require power tools. 

“I want you too,” Louis says quietly, and she can’t help the edge of frustration in her voice.

“Then why the _fuck,_ ” Liam pauses to glance over at the girls before continuing, “Have we been chasing each other around for three months?” 

“Because this is _hard_ , Liam. Me and relationships, we don’t...it ends badly.” Louis says, and Liam rolls her eyes.

“Louis, we’re seventeen. Don’t you think it’s a little early to declare yourself done with relationships?” Liam says, and Louis shrugs. 

“Lou, I like you. And you like me, I think, I’m pretty sure, but I don’t...I’m not going to coerce you into liking me, it’ll only end up even more of a disaster than you seem to think it will.” 

“Please, Louis Tomlinson is not _coerced,_ ” Louis says, and Liam grins despite herself. 

“So what are you saying, then?” Liam says, and Louis sits up so that she’s kneeling in front of Liam.

“I’m saying...okay. Second star to the right and on till morning, or whatever.” Louis says, and the corner of Liam’s mouth turns up as she nods. 

Louis leans forward, her hands on Liam’s kneecaps, and kisses her softly. 

Her bedroom door opens, and Lottie narrows her eyes, looking unimpressed.

“Ew, Louis, not while you’re babysitting, you creep.” She says, and Louis rolls her eyes.

“You just ruined a moment,” Louis says to her, and Lottie just walks out. “It was very romantic! I quoted a movie!” Louis yells at her retreating figure, but Lottie just makes retching noises in return. 

“Oh, I’m Lottie by the way, hi,” she says, poking her head out of her bedroom door and waving a hand at Liam, who smiles and waves in return. 

“Four sisters, that happens,” Louis says, shrugging her shoulders, and Liam’s smile stays put. 

“Get your sisters out of here,” Liam says, and Louis quirks an eyebrow.

“Why?”

“So I can kiss you more,” Liam replies, leaning forward to peck at the corner of her lips. 

++

A few weeks later, they win their last game by three points, and Louis doesn’t stop herself from running toward Liam after the time runs out, jumping up and wrapping her legs around her. She hears Harry, Niall, and Zayn whooping loudly in the stands as she kisses Liam, hard, but she can’t bring herself to care. 

She feels the rest of the team clapping her back, surrounding them, and she’s reminded of the sense of family that being on a team always gives her. She feels lucky and happy, and she wraps her arms tighter around Liam’s neck as the girls around her scream victory cheers. 

++

She learns that Liam likes R&B more than her mary janes suggest, that she has two dogs that she speaks to in cartoonish voices that she’s not embarrassed about, and that she drinks tea with too much sugar instead of coffee. 

She wears dresses when she’s nervous and wants to feel confident, she really, _really_ likes Toy Story, and she owns several pairs of Marvel boxer shorts. 

Most alarmingly, she learns that the more she knows about Liam, the more endeared she is to her stupid eyebrows and her stupid birthmark and the way she can’t text without misspelling almost every word.

“Liam, you have a 3.9 GPA, you really couldn’t spell ‘tonight’?” Louis says over the phone; the last one was so bad it warranted a follow-up call. 

“Shut up, oh my god.” Liam says, but Louis can hear the grin on her face.

“Yeah, okay. You’re weird.”

“You’re smelly, and I don’t like you anymore.” Liam says, and Louis wants to burst.

“You’ve got stupid hair,” Louis says instead, and Liam laughs. 

“Talk to you tomorrow, alright?” Liam says.

“Yeah, definitely. Bye,” Louis says, biting her lip to stifle her grin. 

She forgot what this felt like, infatuation to the highest degree. It feels warm and content and _good,_ and Louis feels drunk on it. 

“You’re disgusting,” Lottie says to her from across the room, and Louis blows her a kiss.

She turns up her music (currently, a playlist she entitled “soft indie songs about feelings”) and thinks about Liam enough that she should feel embarrassed, but she doesn’t, and maybe that feels good.


End file.
